


Mistletoe Monster

by benrumo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benrumo/pseuds/benrumo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat's been living with the Egberts for almost a year, but he still hasn't gotten a chance to kiss John. Will a certain Christmas tradition give Karkat the opportunity he's been waiting for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Caroling](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5995) by Brodad. 



> With Brodad's permission, I've borrowed the pesterlogs from that fic! All of the pesterlogs were written by Brodad, not me!

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and the holidays make you want to vomit enough red and green to decorate an entire hive. This has nothing at all to do with the massive amounts of baked goods John Egbert’s adult male lusus leaves sitting unprotected everywhere you look.

Living with the Egbert’s was possibly the worst choice you have ever made in all of your almost-7-sweeps, and that is saying something. In fact, that is saying a whole fucking lot, more than any other miserable semi-sentient creature could even dream of being able to say about themselves. You have made all of the worst decisions. All of them. And you are damn well capable of telling which was the absolute worst.

Who willingly does that? Who willingly chooses to cohabitate with the person who rejected them based on something as arbitrary and stupid as their gender? You told yourself at the time that it was just because he was the leader of the humans, and that you needed his insight into their idiotic and generally nonsensical ways in order to position yourself as the true and ultimate leader of this hideous planet’s 16 gods. But deep down you always knew that was massive piles of self-delusional horseshit. When you realized that your very limited hiving options on this world included living with John or living thousands of miles away from him, the stringy fibers of your mutant red blood pusher pulled and tugged at you with a ferocity strong enough to momentarily distract you from logic.

If you’re really honest with yourself, you might even admit that it seemed like the only tolerable option out of the given four. Living with Strider had been completely out of the question, but that was alright because both Strider and his disturbingly silent man-lusus seemed intent on taking Tavros under their metaphorical wings. You may be an idiot, but you’ve never been one to interfere with a blossoming romance. Lalonde was also easy to mark off as a non-option as well, on the grounds that if at all possible you’d really rather not spend another day dreaming of horrorterrors.

Jade was harder to say no to. You often find yourself wistfully imagining the life you could be living if only you wouldn’t have been such a stubborn, romantic fuckass and volunteered for life in Egbert-hell. The downsides had seemed obvious at first, namely that you’d have to share all that space on the island with most of your other idiotic friends (not to mention Jade herself, the hellbeast, and the bespectacled specter with a penchant for stuffing his dead), but past you was as always an idiot too stuck in overanalyzing the short-term to see that living there had really been the best option and fucked it up, just like he fucked up everything else in your short life.

Jade offered swimming lessons, for fuck’s sake. Apparently your finless, landdweller form is capable of swimming, at least for short distances above water. It would no doubt have been an exercise in humiliation to learn. It would probably have made Eridan’s fucking sweep. But the short-term loss would have opened up the ultimate option: building your own hive on one of the many purported islands neighboring Jade’s own. You would probably have had to ask for help to build a boat seaworthy enough to survive any bullshit Eridan might even think of pulling, but Terezi would have helped you willingly enough, given the right bargaining materials.

Fuck, wouldn’t that have been the life? But you had to go and turn it down like a think-pan-stunted wriggler, two legs shy of a full set.

You wonder what had to have been going through your head at the time. Sometimes you imagine that Gamzee must have still been sweating massive amounts of sopor slime out of his system, drugging you by mere proximity. How else could you account for what is by no small metric the worst decision made in a life-long career of terrible decisions? You left most of your murderous, backstabbing, insane friends alone on a deserted island, fresh from a miraculous resurrection to live out their days alongside their murderers. With _Jade_.

Which actually might not have been as bad a decision as you’d like to think. If there is one thing the game taught you, it was that you are completely and utterly incapable of doing anything right. Your negligence gave an entire universe cancer. In terms of horrible people who ever existed you’re no Jack Noir, but by your count you’re pretty fucking close. You couldn’t save anybody. Not one fucking person. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that those who did survive to the game’s final hour did so _in spite_ of you.

But not a single one of your violent friends has gotten more than busted lip or a couple of knocked out teeth in the near full human year they’ve lived on Jade’s island. You should have expected this, really. If anyone could put up with and even defuse the worst of your friends’ vividly disgusting personalities without resorting to extreme shows of force, it would have to be her. You secretly think that she would be the obvious candidate for the true human leader, you know, now that she doesn’t do that crazy robot narcoleptic thing anymore.

You, on the other hand, you would have just gotten in the way. You can admit that to yourself now that you’ve put aside any fantasies of being the god-leader. You would have been even more meddlesome than Kanaya. Things worked out fine in the game for as long as they did because you had something to rally everyone around. You had a common enemy to herd their destructive habits towards. But things went to shit the moment that changed. You couldn’t even keep everyone convinced that Jack was the enemy. You know, the guy who casually murdered everyone in sight for fun. Fuck, you couldn’t even keep them believing that they weren’t each other’s enemy.

And that’s because in the end you were a shitty leader. It was fun deluding yourself while you could, but the truth is that you never lead them anywhere. The game led everyone for you. They just followed the path the game laid out, and you pointed it out like the Hero of Obviousness, God of All that is Self-Evident. You thought that what you did actually mattered.

Now you know things won’t turn out the way you want just because you put every last ounce of effort you have in you into it. In short, you have given up all hope on anything you touch not spontaneously bursting into flames.

But that doesn’t change the immutable fact that you are still the most hopeless of all romantics. This season, this hideous human season of hope and joy, is actually getting under your nihilistic skin. You are beginning to feel (dare you say it?) jolly.

This stupid human holiday is just full of bile-spewingly awkward moments, from brushing elbows when co-camouflaging a miniature human house made of gingerbread to practically curling in John’s lusus-Dad’s lap while he reads tales of some iconic human figure in red. And there is simply no avoiding this holiday fanaticism. Every inch of John’s hive is covered with flashing lights and prickling fake greenery. You cannot even sleep at night because of the glowing Clause person that John decided to plug into the only accessible outlet in your room. It stares at you while you sleep. You know it.

You need someone who sympathizes with your misery. You’d go to your pale-mate for comfort, but the backstabbing nubsucker is head over heels for the celebration. He has made seven snow-trolls in John’s front yard. _Seven._ You have to do a load of laundry for him alone each and every day because no matter how hard you try, you cannot keep him from making troll-snow angels and getting mud and ice all over himself. At least once a week he buries himself in the massive mounds of snow the three of your shoveled from the driveway and refuses to come inside until you make him, a task which involves you swearing at the indiscriminate piles and cautiously prodding at them with a stick until you walk too close to his hiding spot, at which point he leaps out at you like a monstrous hopbeast honking his half-frozen head off. You have frequently considered leaving him out there to freeze, or even simply strangling him, but thanks to your godlike patience you have yet to give in to the impulse.

But you _might._ You just _might_ do a lot of things if you can’t find one single, sane person in this entire universe who will agree with you that these human traditions are nothing short of a festering rash of a crust atop this pathetic existence you call a life.

You are on your way upstairs to go troll your rotten excuses for friends when you have the misfortune of meeting John Egbert.

“Hey, Karkat! I was just looking for you!”

This is the exact last thing you needed at this moment.

“What do you want? I’m sure it’s basically impossible for someone of your limited intellect to be able to infer this without a lusus holding your hand through the process, but I actually have very important business to attend to right now as your leader, and you’re in my way.”

“Karkat, there’s no time for your silly excuses, we’ve got rehearsals to get to!”

“What rehearsals? I don’t remember agreeing to anything that involved rehearsals.”

John’s pout is like a lightning bolt straight to your blood pusher. You wonder how it is possible for a single individual to have so many pathetic expressions. It is borderline perverse.

“But you can’t miss out on your first Christmas caroling!”

“What in the eternally tainted fuck is caroling? No, wait, don’t even tell me. Let me guess. It involves us donning ridiculous red and green costumes and humiliating ourselves in some agonizing new fashion.”

“Of course not! You can wear whatever you want to!” John says. “But it would probably be nice if you wore that sweater Rose knit for you. And maybe Kanaya’s scarf and hat! Dad and I are going to be wearing ours and we’re probably going to be taking pictures to send in our Christmas cards, so it would be really nice if we showed them how much we appreciate their gifts!”

“No,” you say. Short, simple replies are the easiest way to get Egbert to shut the fuck up.

“But Karkat, don’t you want to match? It’ll be like we’re one big happy family! I mean, more than we already are.”

“No,” you refuse again. You are more patient than Egbert. You can out-last him. So long as you keep your temper under control, anyway. “Fashion is stupid.”

“Oh, but it’s also really, really cold out today, and we’re going to be outside for a long time! You’ll freeze in just that thin shirt!”

John grabs a hold of your sleeve, tugging at it to illustrate his point. One of the most horrible things you have learned about John Egbert in the miserable time that you have cohabitated with him is that for someone who is exclusively attracted to females, he sure is clingy. If it were anyone else but John-not-a-fucking-homosexual-whatever-that-is Egbert subjecting you to the same levels of touchy-feely-ness, you would be willing to bet your left horn that they were in their own incredibly fumbling way trying to start a concupiscent relationship with you. He is clingier than _Nepeta,_ for fuck’s sake. How did your life come to this?

“Does this ‘caroling’ business have anything to do with snow?” you growl, giving in just the tiniest bit. It’s that stupid hope and Egbert’s infective jolliness. It turns your think pan to mush every fucking time, all in the self-defeating hope of getting to spend another awkward moment at Egbert’s side.

 “Nope. Caroling is where we all get together and go from house to house, bring Christmas joy to all of our neighbors by singing Christmas carols. That’s why it’s called caroling, get it? Because Christmas songs are also called carols. Man, I never knew how many fun and interesting facts there are unique just to the way humans celebrate Christmas before I had to try and explain it to you guys!”

“No,” you snap again.

You draw the line at singing. There is the line drawn in permanent ink and you will not cross it, no matter how much Egbert begs and pleads. You have your dignity. Sure, you’re on Earth now, where singing is actually viewed as a pleasurable pastime, but that doesn’t change the fact that you grew up on a planet where singing was a form of torture. You had just about enough of that shit as a little grub in your communal school-feedings, where your entire class was forced to sing a song of your own pathetic ineptitude at the beginning of every session to remind you of just how lucky you were not to have been culled yet by her gracious Imperial Condescension.

“But if you don’t rehearse with us, you won’t know the words when it’s time to actually go caroling for real!”

“You are more of an idiot than I ever imagined if you actually thought I would agree to such a blatant display of human masochism.”

“But Karkat, caroling is my favorite part of Christmas, and I really want to share it with you. It’s a lot of fun, I promise!”

Again with the fucking pathetic faces! Forget it! Your mutant, romantic blood pusher can just go suck a candy cane flavored nub, because it’s not distracting you from logic this time. You are not going to embarrass yourself again.

“Ugh... Fine. If it will get you to stop wibbling your lip at me like a kicked woofbeats, I’ll do it.”

Those words did not just come out of your mouth. You did not just agree to that like a retarded chump, hypnotized by the stench of Egbert’s joy.

But you barely have the time to berate yourself, because the moment you agree to his stupid caroling, Egbert grabs both of your hands and practically drags you back down the stairs.

“We are going to have so much fun, Karkat! You just wait and see! And besides, even if you don’t like it all that much, afterwards we’re going to have cookies and eggnog and hot cocoa and sit around the fire and watch some of my favorite Christmas movies from back when I was a little kid!”

Egbert is so excited he completely forgets about things like personal space boundaries. You are basically the only thing tethering him to the ground, if the way he bounces around you, hands alternatively holding yours or tugging you along or just thrown across your shoulder, is any indication.

Oh, goddamn it. This can’t be that bad, right?

#

Five minutes into the first rehearsal, you unconditionally boycott anything and everything that even remotely resembles caroling. Not even Egbert at his most pathetic can convince you to rejoin them.

#

“Karkat!”

“No.”

“But, Karkat—”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“For me?”

“Fuck no.”

“For cookies?”

“Fuck you.”

“But they’re your favorite, sugar with lots and lots of icing.”

“Fuck off.”

“Just look at this cookie, Karkat. Doesn’t it look delic—Hey! I was bribing you with that! You can’t just take it!”

“Just did, fuckass.”

“Aw, no fair.”

#

You are going to find one person on this demented planet who doesn’t make you wish you were slowly dying in a fire. You are going to find some sane individual who sympathizes with the runaway hate train you harbor in your blood pusher for this most heinous and masochistic of all your human experiences, even if it takes all night.

As you check your trollslum, you realize that it might actually take a little longer than just one night. No one is online, and you do mean no one. Counted among those nobodies are Eridan, Tavros, Equius, Vriska, and Gamzee. You should probably troll Gamzee and tell him to get his ass off the roof and come inside where it’s warm if he wants to sit around trolling people. That would probably be the levelheaded thing to do, but you are more or less certain that you went far off the deep end about two hours ago when Gamzee tried to explain to you the motherfuckin’ miracle of the **_red mutant_** reindeer who went and saved that fat motherfucker from a bad ending. Yes, you are certain it was in that exact moment that Christmas stole your will to live.

You mentally cross Gamzee off your list. In fact, you are going to do your best to pretend he doesn’t even exist for the next several minutes. You survey the remaining choices, if you can even call them that. Two murderous, backstabbing fuckasses, no-doubt-already-sweating ponyboy, and the hate-crippled dork who plays games for girls. The least terrible choice is obvious.

TAVROS.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

oH, hI kARKAT,

wHAT’S UP,

OH NOTHING JUST READY TO TAKE A SICKLE TO MY NECK AND GURGLE ON MY OWN FUCKING SHAMEFUL MUTANT BLOOD FOR EVERYONE TO SEE BECAUSE IT WOULD BE BETTER THAN TO BE RIGHT HERE WITH THE FUCKED UP FATE LAID OUT BEFORE ME.

THANKS FOR NOTICING.

sORRY, bUT, iT’S HARD TO TELL WHEN YOU’RE ACTUALLY UPSET,

oR JUST,

nORMAL AMOUNTS OF ANGRY,

FUCK YOU.

wHAT’S WRONG,

THESE DISGUSTING HUMANS, THAT’S WHAT.

I MEAN THIS WHOLE HOUSE HAS BEEN A VOMIT INDUCING NIGHTMARE EVER SINCE THAT HALLOWEEN SHIT BUT IT’S GETTING WORSE.

uH, oH,

yOU GUYS ARE CELEBRATING THE HOLIDAY SEASON, tOO,

i MEAN i KNEW SINCE jOHN TELLS ME ABOUT IT, bUT, yOU KNOW,

YEAH WELL AT LEAST YOU HAVE DECENT HUMANS TO LIVE WITH.

OR AS DECENT AS A COUPLE OF STRIDERS CAN BE.

I CANNOT BELIEVE I JUST SAID THAT.

tHEY’RE BOTH REALLY NICE, aND i LIKE LIVING WITH THEM A LOT, sO, dON’T TALK ABOU THEM THAT WAY,

aND UH,

tHEY ARE DOING HOLIDAY STUFF, tOO,

OH THANK GOD’S SPITEFUL BONEBULGE.

I DON’T HAVE TO TRY TO EXPLAIN TO YOU WHY THE TORTURE THESE DAMNED EGBERTS HAVE IN STORE IS SO DAMNED DIABOLICAL.

wHAT ARE YOU GOING TO BE DOING,

IT’S THAT CAROLING SHIT.

cAROLING,

wHAT IS THAT, eXACTLY,

OH FUCK YOU NOW YOU’RE JUST RUBBING IN HOW DAMN LUCKY YOU ARE TO NOT BE HERE. JEGUS. PLEASE JUST DO ME THE SERVICE OF CULLING ME SO I DON’T HAVE TO LIVE THIS FORSAKEN LIFE.

kARKAT, mAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST, uH, tRY TO ENJOY WHATEVER IT IS,

bECAUSE SOME OF THE HOLIDAY STUFF IS, yOU KNOW,

rEALLY NICE,

}:)

NO FUCK YOU.

YOU’VE BEEN BRAINWASHED BY THIS IS MUSCLEBEAST SHIT.

oH, oNE SECOND,

gAMZEE IS PESTERING ME,

WHAT KIND OF BASTARD GETS BETWEEN HIS MOIRAIL AND HIS NEED FOR SUPPORT IN THE LAST MOMENTS OF HIS LIFE?

dON’T CULL YOURSELF WHILE i’M GONE, pLEASE,

FINE.

GO TALK TO THAT JERK.

You spend the next several minutes thinking about the various ways in which you could cull yourself and still suffer less than you do every waking moment on this vapid planet full of miserable joy and tidings of good fucking cheer. You also once again consider telling your moirail to get the fuck off the roof before he turns into one of his beloved snow-trolls. Your cursor is hovering above the purple name in your trollslum when Tavros contacts you again.

uH, oK, i’M BACK, aND gAMZEE TOLD ME ABOUT CAROLING, aND IT SOUNDS FUN, sO,

OH GODDAMMIT. IT IS NOT. IT IS AS IDIOTIC AS A GRUB THAT’S BEEN DROPPED ON ITS HEAD MULTIPLE TIMES AND THEN FORCEFED NOTHING BUT SOPOR SLIME FOR THE REST OF ITS LIFE.

AND FUCK WHO CAN EVEN REMEMBER ALL THOSE SONGS.

oH,

aRE YOU EMBARRASSED BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW ALL THE WORDS,

NO.

THAT IS EVEN MORE IDIOTIC THAN THE SIMILE I JUST PUT OUT THERE.

i’M SURE THAT jOHN WOULDN’T MIND PRINTING OUT, uH, lYRICS FOR YOU,

NO.

NO STOP SHUT UP THAT’S NOT IT.

dO YOU THINK YOU SING BADLY, tHEN,

I SING LIKE A FUCKING CHIRPBEAST.

BUT YOU KNOW. LESS SMALL AND CUTE.

i DON’T KNOW, yOU’RE PRETTY SMALL AND CUTE,

eSPECIALLY WHEN YOU’RE EMBARRASSED,

}:)

YEAH OK THANKS NOW I HAVE TO DIG MY THINK PAN OUT THROUGH MY WASTE CHUTE BECAUSE I CANNOT DEAL WITH THOUGHTS OF YOU PITYING ME. FUCK. YOU HAVE BEEN LIVING WITH THE DOUCHEKING FOR TOO LONG.

hUH,

i GUESS, i NEVER DID PRETEND HIT ON ANYONE BEFORE,

aLTHOUGH i WAS KIND OF SERIOUS,

WHAT

nO, wAIT, nOT ABOUT HITTING ON YOU,

uHH,

i MEANT THAT YOU’RE SMALL AND KIND OF CUTE, iN A WAY THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME WANTING TO, yOU KNOW, aCTUALLY PITY YOU,

bECAUSE i HAVE dAVE AND YOU HAVE gAMZEE, sO,

JUST STOP.

YOU’RE ONLY FURTHER EMBARRASSING US BOTH SO WE’LL JUST LEAVE IT AT YOU BECOMING TOO MUCH LIKE YOUR DESPICABLE MATESPRIT AND THIS BEING AN INTERVENTION TO BRING THAT TO A STOP BECAUSE THERE IS TOO MUCH OF THAT SHIT ALREADY IN MY FUCKING LIFE.

sO, yOU’LL GO WITH gAMZEE AND jOHN FOR CAROLING,

YES THAT IS EXACTLY THE RIGHT RESPONSE TO WHAT I JUST SAID.

dAVE SENT ME ALL SORTS OF LYRICS, wHICH i AM SENDING, sO, yOU CAN PRINT THEM OFF IF YOU’RE TOO EMBARRASSED TO ASK,

TAVROS ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?

aND WE BOTH KNOW THAT gAMZEE’S VOICE IS, uH, nOT VERY MIRACULOUS, sO NO ONE WILL NOTICE YOURS, iF IT’S NOT GREAT,

I’M JUST TALKING TO MYSELF.

sO YOU SHOULD GO HAVE FUN,

I GIVE UP. FINE. YOU WIN, YOU BASTARD, BECAUSE EVIDENTLY I HAVE NO ONE TO SUPPORT ME IN MY PROTEST OF THIS ROYAL FUCK UP OF AN EVENT.

gOOD,

hAVE FUN,

FUCK YOU.

yOU’RE WELCOME,

OH MY GOD YOU ARE SUCH A DOUCHE.

#

You are still staring at your computer in equal parts fury and disbelief when steps outside your respiteblock door draw your attention.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you say when Gamzee enters your shared respiteblock. “I can’t believe you’re wearing that hideous thing. No, wait, I actually can. I forgot that unlike most trolls you’re actually insane enough to enjoy this festivity shit.”

“It’s time, palebrother.”

“What?”

Gamzee smiles as he crosses the room, no doubt seeking you out for some icy-wet clothes snuggling.

“Honk.”

As he gets closer, you notice that he’s not wet and snow-doused. Wow, that means you may actually get to put off doing laundry for one more day. What a wonderful holiday miracle. Your life is just full of miracles with this magical fuckass around.

You turn back to your computer, aiming to quickly close out the links Tavros sent you to those stupid fucking carols before Gamzee can see them and get the wrong idea, but before you can even click once you are forcibly removed from your computer.

“Gamzee, what the fuck are you doing?”

“HONK.”

“Put me down, you retarded clown asshole! This isn’t funny!”

You have to stop ranting when your stomach lands brutally down on his shoulder blade, but that doesn’t silence you for long. Or stop you from fighting. You try to kick, but the bastard just grabs a hold of your legs.

“Shoosh,” he says, papping you across the ass. “You don’t want to be fightin’ me on this next part, palebro. Not unless you’re wantin’ to be doin’ some mad aerobatic tumblin’ down these motherfuckin’ stairs.”

“Fuck, Gamzee, put me down before you kill us both!”

“Nope. You’re just goin’ have to chill your tits and hang on tight. Here we go, motherfucker. Honk!”

You swear, squeeze your eyes shut, and grab hold of Gamzee’s middle as tight as you can as the world sways precariously to the right and swiftly down, then to the left and down again.

“Oh my god! Gamzee! You were only supposed to tell him we were leaving! You’re really freaking Dad out!”

It is a testament to how fucked up your life is that Egbert is actually the voice of reason.

“Aw, don’t be worryin’ now. Look, we’re almost there!”

“Don’t you fucking let go of me!” you shout as Gamzee does exactly that.

“Woops! Haha, motherfuckin’ sorry, palebro. I got you, I got you. Don’t fuckin’ worry. Look, we don’t even have to take these last couple of motherfuckers. I can just up and motherfuckin’ jump down to the bottom.”

“Gamzee, no! Oh, fuck!”

You scream. You admit it. You actually scream as you fly through the air. You stop the moment the landing knocks the breath out of you.

“There now. See, that wasn’t so motherfuckin’ bad, was it? Palebro? Uh, palebro?”

You think you might vomit. It is going to go right into a motherfucker’s painted face if you have anything to say about it.

“Karkat, are you OK? Haha, wow! You’re really strong, Gamzee! Man, where were you when we were dragging those boxes out of the attic?”

“Buried horn-deep in the snow,” you manage to growl around the rising bile in the back of your throat.

“Oh man, speaking of which, I think it’s started to snow again! Karkat, you’d better bundle up if you’re coming!”

You are just about to tell Egbert and Gamzee both exactly where they can shove their joy-filled caroling exuberance when a hand clamps over your mouth.

“Soosh, palebro, shoosh. Don’t go sayin’ hasty words just ‘cause that wicked mouth of yours is got to runnin’.”

“Gamzee, if Karkat doesn’t want to come, it’s really OK! I’m just glad that you want to join us.”

“Aw, but I want him to come.”

His grip relaxes just enough for you to pull your hand away.

“You can go out and make a fool of yourself all you want to,” you tell him as you put a generous distance between the two of you, “but I’m staying here.”

“But I can’t be out and havin’ all kinds of wicked fun knowin’ you’re here all in the dark and missin’ out on this crazy miracle we’re all makin’.”

Gamzee gives you one of those looks that makes you remember exactly how pathetic he is. You wonder what made you think that surrounding yourself with pathetic idiots was conducive to you keeping your sanity.

“Gamzee…”

“Pretty, pretty please, palebro? With lots of sprinkles and grubsauce and them little motherfuckin’ chocolate Santa men you like so much. Come on, man, help a brother out here.”

Gamzee pulls John in beside him. There is now nothing but pathetic, pouting faces as far as the eye can see, which is not very fucking far given how little sense of personal space the two of them have.

“Pretty, pretty please?” they beg simultaneously before breaking off into a demented chorus of what various objects they’re metaphorically bribing you with. Some of them are not edible.

You are not going to give in, you are NOT.

“Fine! I’ll go if the two of you just shut your—”

You are not even given the opportunity to express your extreme displeasure with this situation before you are pulled outside by your arms into the blistering cold.

#

“Are you sure you’re not cold, Karkat?”

“Shut the fuck up and tell me how many hives we have left to haunt with our hideous screeching, Egbert.”

“Karkat, how am I supposed to shut up and tell you stuff at the same time? That’s just ridiculous. Also, they’re not hives, they’re houses. Humans don’t have hives.”

“Fine. Since you shutting your gaping hole for a solitary moment is a physical impossibility, tell me how many fucking _houses_ we have left to disgrace with our grisly, caroling visages.”

“Only about another block, I think. Right, Dad? We’re trying to go easy on you guys since you’re new to the caroling business! To be honest though, I kind of figured you would have more stamina! Aren’t you always telling me how humans are puny and weak and trolls are these mighty warriors who would conquer our planet in less than a day?”

“Hey, motherfucker, you just watch what you’re sayin’ there. I have got all the motherfuckin’ stamina and shit. Don’t make us stop already! We ain’t even sung all the songs yet!”

“It’s OK, Gamzee. Even if we don’t get through all the songs while we’re out, we can still sing them together! That’ll be almost as fun!”

“Honk!”

“I hate you both so very fucking much.”

“Then why are you standing so close, huh? Told you to wear something warmer. You sure you don’t want the sweater Rose knitted for you? I capchalogued it just in case.”

“Wipe that smug look off your face and just hand it to me, asshole.”

“Hehehe. Want the hat and scarf too?”

“Fuck you. And yes, give them here.”

“Oh, hey, look! Dad remembered to bring his camera! Smile everybody!”

“Honk honk!”

“Fuck my life. Fuck it square in the nook with one of Jack’s numerous, murdering tentacles.”

#

oK, tHAT REALLY, rEALLY SUCKED,

i’M SORRY i MADE YOU DO THAT, kARKAT,

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, DUMBFUCK?

i KIND OF HAD TO GO CAROLING, tOO,

aND i DIDN’T KNOW ANY OF THE WORDS OR SONGS VERY WELL, aND, iT WAS REALLY EMBARRASSING, sO,

HOLY SHIT THIS JUST MADE MY WHOLE DAY WORTH WHILE.

MY SIDE IS SPLITTING FROM LAUGHING.

FUCK YES.

sHUT UP,

NO BECAUSE YOU FUCKING DESERVE THIS SO TAKE IT.

i HOPE YOU GET RUN OVER BY A REINDEER,

I HOPE SANTA WATCHES YOU WHILE YOU PAIL AND GIVES YOU NOTHING BUT COAL FOR THAT BLATANT DISPLAY OF DISREGARD FOR DECENCY.

wELL, aT LEAST i PAIL, uNLIKE SOME PEOPLE,

aLSO,

sIT ON A CHRISTMAS TREE,

YOU STOLE THAT FROM STRIDER.

yEAH, oK, bUT STILL,

ALSO FUCK YOU I DON’T NEED TO PAIL. I AM PERFECTLY CONTENT NOT PAILING. I COULD HAPPILY LIVE THE REST OF MY LIFE NOT PAILING. EVER.

oK,

I’M SERIOUS. COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY FUCKING ALRIGHT WITH NOT PAILING.

tHAT’S NICE, i GUESS,

uH,

ALSO, I HOPE THAT YOU AND YOUR QUADRANTFUCK OF A HOUSE OF DOUCHEKINGS ALL GET ON A SLEIGH TO GO TO OVER HILLS AND SHIT, LAUGHING YOUR FUCKING SHAMEGLOBES OFF TO THE JINGLE OF BELLS ATTACHED TO SAID SLEIGH, UNTIL YOU SEE WHATEVER THAT ABOMONATION CALLED A SNOWMAN IS STANDING IN THE ROAD AND YOU TURN TO AVOID IT, AND GO CAREENING DOWN A HILL AND HIT THE BIGGEST FUCKING TREE IN THE WHOLE FOREST, AND YOU ALL DIE.

wOW,

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS.

You are three nanoseconds away from slamming the lid of your husktop closed with righteous fury when a ping alerts you that you’ve got another message. On the off-chance that it’s from someone who doesn’t make you want to mutilate your every orifice with a broken, jagged candy cane, you look back down at the screen.

It’s just another apologetic message from Tavros. Of fucking course.

Actually, it’s not. It’s a link of… what the fuck is this shit?

You take a deep breath and try to remember that Tavros isn’t your pail-teasing hive-mate or the idiot who volunteered you to live with said pail-teaser.

HEY.

LOOK, I DIDN’T MEAN TO BE THAT SHITTY.

kARKAT, iT’S OK,

OK GOOD.

ALSO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SEND ME THIS LINK?

mAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST, yOU KNOW,

cHECK IT OUT,

HOLD UP.

IS THIS THAT PLANT THAT HUMANS KISS UNDER?

THAT’S ACTUALLY A THING?

}:)

mERRY cHRISTMAS, kARKAT,

#

You spend the better part of an hour scouring the internet for information on this mistletoe custom. After quickly determining that the mythology behind it is useless human superstitious bullshit that will in no way help you to win John’s lips, you turn your attention to modern renditions and usage of the plant. You listen to more agonizing carols (which you swore you would never, ever do again) to hear instances in which mistletoe is referenced and watch movies on Youtube for scenes in which young couples kiss under the fruit-bearing foliage.

When you pull back the curtains to look out into the back yard at the massive tree whose bare branches, just as you remembered, are covered in thick clumps of what you now recognize is mistletoe, it just reassures you that this is it. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. You’ve got one more window to a future that doesn’t make you wish daily for a flesh-rotting disease to free you from your misery.

It’s like this moment was fated to happen. It’s a true Christmas miracle.

#

“Hey, John.”

“Oh, hey, Karkat! Do you want to help me string some more popcorn? _Somebody_ keeps eating it off the tree while Dad and I are asleep.”

“No.”

“Aw, but look at all this popcorn! Are you really going to make me do all this by myself?”

“No, I mean, yes, I’ll help. But not right this fucking second. Look, would you just put that string down?”

“You sound kind of serious. Is everything OK? Is Gamzee sick? I haven’t seen him all day, and Dad’s been really worried about how much time he spends out in the snow.”

“No, Gamzee’s fine. Don’t worry about that idiot. It would take a lot more than a little cold to stop his lunacy.”

“Haha, that’s good to hear! I’ve been kind of worried about him too! Man, it’s been so great having you guys here with us! I hope we get to do this every year for the rest of forever.”

“Yeah… Actually, that was pretty much exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Do you think you could just come with me for a moment without questioning it every second of the way? Because that is all I want for this stupid red and green holiday, John. It would be a fucking Christmas miracle that you could take part of. That must be like a dream come true for you, right?”

“Sure.”

He stands up and brushes the popcorn crumbs off his pants legs, reminding you just how much taller he is than you.

“Where are we going?”

“Just… outside. For a minute.”

“OK, but why all the secrecy? Oh, man! Does this have anything to do with presents? Are you trying to coordinate your very first secret Santa?”

“What the ever-loving fuck is a secret Santa? How do you manage to make that man even more mysterious than he already is?”

“Secret Santa doesn’t actually involve Santa, it involves—”

“Please do not fucking explain. Please. I am begging you. I am up to my nook in bullshit holiday explanations as it is.”

“Alright, Mr. Scrooge. Whatever you say!”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you just said you didn’t want any more bullshit holiday explanations.”

“You know, I always tell myself that there’s no possible way for you to be more irritating than you are on a regular basis. Then you start _trying_.”

“I can’t help that you’re so easy to prank. Maybe you should work on being less prankable instead of complaining all the time, Grumpmeister!”

“Look, John, I have some very serious matters to discuss with you—”

“As the very official and really important leader of all of us idiots?”

“Yes. Wait, fuck, no. Could you please—do you hear this? I am asking you please, from the very bottom of my blood pusher—just come outside with me for one fucking second without complaint?”

John pauses, hopefully overcome by the sheer sincerity of your pleading, and then fucking smiles at you. And not his normal, derpy smile. (You have had to learn a whole fucking language of smiles living in this demented hive-hold.) This smile is the smile he only gets when he’s really genuinely happy. Or laughing. Goddamn it, is he laughing at your nervous sincerity?

“Can I get my jacket first? Unlike some people, I don’t like going out in the snow without the proper attire.”

You repress the urge to scream obscenities.

“…Yes,” you hiss out, biting down for a little too long on the tail of the word. “Go get your jacket.”

You wait as patiently as you are able. Normally, this would be a great opportunity for you to show off your unrivaled patience, but these are not normal times. These are times where human children make wishes for material possession from a magical fat, bearded man who enlists tiny, mutant humans as his drones. These are times where your moirail betrays you for baked goods and stupid human traditions. You are scraping the bottom of the barrel you store your metaphorically liquid patience in.

“I grabbed one of Gamzee’s too, if you want it. Figured you might. It’s getting close to zero degrees out there!”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Ready to go to wherever you want to take me?”

“Yeah, just…”

You hold the door open and he obediently steps through.

“So, what’s so important that you had to drag me all the way outside to talk about?” he asks once you shut the door behind yourself.

“Not quite there yet. This way.”

You lead the way over to the tree. You instinctively shove your hands in your pockets the moment the cold air hits them, but the immediately pull the back out. You cannot kiss John with your hands stuck in your pockets. Who do you think you are, that cooldouche Strider?

“So, what’s out here? Oh man, don’t tell me you finally made a snowman of your own! Is that one over there it?”

“That’s another one of Gamzee’s if it isn’t yours. And no, I didn’t bring you out here to talk about the fucking snow.”

“So, what is it then?”

“I…”

“What are you so nervous about?”

“I’m not nervous!”

“Sure you’re not. Come on, Karkat! It’s just me! You can tell me anything!”

“I just wanted to talk about… stuff that happened during the game.”

John’s face falls just enough to be noticeable. You immediately regret your poor choice of words.

“That’s not really what I meant. Damn it. Fuck, I mean the first time we ever spoke. We kind of got off on the wrong foot.”

“Haha, we really did, didn’t we! To be fair, though, I really think that the time shenanigans were to blame for a lot of that! I mean, come on. How did any of you expect us to believe that you really were six year old aliens from another universe until we played the game ourselves?”

“I’m talking about the first time from my perspective, not yours.”

“Oh, you mean the time when you—”

“Yeah, that time.”

“Wow, yeah, that was really awkward, wasn’t it?”

“No, shut up. We are not talking about that.”

“But you just said that you brought me out here to—”

“I know what I said! But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“So… what are you talking about? Because I’m getting kind of confused. Maybe you should just tell me what it is that’s bothering you instead of beating around the bush like this.”

You take a deep breath and steal a glance at the mistletoe above the two of you. Come on, Karkat. You can do this. Don’t be a fucking coward.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that I don’t actually hate you, no matter how much I may act like I do sometimes. I don’t want whatever the hell fucking past me said or may have thought getting between us now, or making you scared to act… however the fuck you want around me.”

Your heart drops the moment you decode the smile on his face.

“That’s what you wanted to talk about? Man, Karkat! You had me worried there for a second that this was about something serious! Of course I know you don’t hate me! You’re just prickly and crabby and fussy, I get that! Don’t worry! We’re going to be best friends forever, no matter what!”

“No, John, that’s not what I meant.”

By which you really mean that was not the reaction you were hoping for. But you should have known better than to try and be subtle with someone as oblivious as John.

You are going to have to be pretty damn embarrassingly direct if you want this to go anywhere. And you really want this to go somewhere. You catch John’s cold fingers in your own and take a deep breath.

“Look up, John.”

John obediently tilts his head backwards, pulling one hand away from yours to shield his eyes from the winter sun.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Of course. Leave it to you to be blissfully ignorant of your planet’s own flora.”

“Flora? You mean the tree? What about it?”

“Not the tree, idiot. It’s what’s hanging on the branches. Still don’t recognize it?”

You can tell the exact moment John catches on because it’s the same exact moment that his face goes from its normal pink to an oversaturated shade of your shared blood color.

“Woah, Karkat, wait! Don’t tell me you’re talking about the mistletoe.”

“John, I have something else to tell you.”

You can’t do this and look him in his massive blue eyes at the same time, so you drop your gaze down to his hand, still trapped in yours.

“I know I’m not the most easy person to get along with by human standards. And that sometimes when I talk I say awful shit I don’t really mean. But…”

You glance up at him. Nothing about his startled expression reassures you, but it doesn’t discourage you either.

“I know you’re so oblivious that you wouldn’t be able to grasp the obvious if it glued itself to your hands. And I guess it’s my own damn fault for not remembering that it’s you I’m dealing with and laying my cards out on the table sooner. So, this is me being about as subtle as a musclebeast on a billboard.”

You lift your free hand up and catch the side of his face. He shies away from the touch ever so slightly, and fuck, you hope it’s because your hand is cold.

“John, I pity you. I guess the human way of saying it would be that I like you. I do like you, John. I like you so fucking much, even when you infuriate me. Just one look from you and my blood pusher races with excessive amounts of pity. And maybe I was a coward for never saying anything before, but I really want to kiss you. Right now, underneath the mistletoe. If that’s OK.”

You watch his face, waiting for some kind of reaction that doesn’t come. You start to get nervous. Have you fucked this up? You can’t start thinking that way or you know you’ll take the coward’s way out and abscond. You push the thought aside in favor of leaning in towards John’s lips.

That’s when he decides to react. And he pushes you away.

“Um, no, Karkat wait! You can’t k-kiss me. Mistletoe only, um, works when there’s a guy and a girl, not two guys. Two guys can’t kiss, Karkat!”

Of course that’s not how it works. That’s not how anything fucking works in this shitstain of a universe.

“Karkat, I’m sorry, but—”

“Shut the fuck up, Egbert!”

“Karkat, wait a second!”

But by that point you’re already half-way to the door and you’re not turning back.

The thing that most people don’t realize is that the friend-zone is a universal constant. Its official title is even more depressing in Alternian, the direct translation being something like “feeling-less void.” No flushed feelings, no pale. No red and no black. Just nothing.

#

You spend the next several, miserable minutes of your life banging your head against your husktop, the walls of Egbert’s hive being too thin to withstand a proper beating, until Gamzee comes in and drags you, kicking and swearing, into his tinsel pile for a feelings jam. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even honk. He just lays there with you, petting you on the head and on the arms, wherever he can reach, while you bleed it all out. You try to keep your voice down, but that doesn’t last long. He doesn’t try to quiet you. All he does to comfort you is to pull you back down into the tinsel pile every time you try to move.

Eventually, you quiet down on your own. You let him curl his loose limbs around your own tense form as you spit out a few lingering curses about how goddamn unfair this whole fucking world is. He shooshes you as he pulls your head against his chest, and the last of your anger seeps away, leaving behind nothing but the wounds in your blood pusher that you can’t run away from. You’re sore and exhausted. You’re already half-asleep when Gamzee starts whispering little suggestions in your ear that you just let it all go and embrace your dreamin’.

You do not even mind that he is soaking wet.

#

“Gamzee?”

“Yeah, palebro?”

“You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to.”

“You goin’ somewhere? ‘Cause I’m thinkin’ this is the first I’m hearin’ any of this motherfuckin’ noise.”

“I just got finished talking to Jade and Vriska. She thinks it won’t be too hard to get the transportalizer working, just as long as we’re quick about it.”

“What are you sayin’, man?”

“I’m saying that the first chance I get, I’m going to live on Jade’s island. It will be better for everyone. Vriska’s been dying to see John in person. And if you want to stay here that’s fine. I mean it. I know how you feel about John’s Dad. And you could keep an eye on Vriska for me. Make sure she stays out of trouble, and all that shit.”

“No way, palebro. I decided long ago that we were going to be the best motherfuckin’ friends forever and I meant it. You and me, we are a motherfuckin’ miracle, man. And I’m not about to let you go wanderin’ off on some crazy bitchin’ adventure without me. You got that?”

“…Thank you.”

“Don’t you even sweat it, motherfucker. That’s what moirails are for.”

#

You don’t leave your respiteblock except for at the oddest of hours, when you’re sure you won’t accidentally run into John or his parental figure. Gamzee brings you most of your food.

You spend most of your time feeling sorry for yourself. In between bouts of self-pity, you work on the necessary preparations with Jade and curl in the tinsel pile with your moirail. But despite being such an incredibly busy guy, you still somehow find time to tell the whole shameful story to Tavros. To your surprise, when that embarrassing conversation comes to a close, you do actually feel marginally less shitty. You hardly want to murder him at all for having a concupiscent quadrant solidly filled.

Egbert doesn’t once seek you out.

#

It’s late, so ridiculously late that it’s practically early. Gamzee is sound asleep and snoring in his pile of fake greenery. You have not eaten in so long that you think your stomach might actually be digesting itself. According to Gamzee, it is officially Christmas. You don’t give a single flying shit.

You sneak down towards the kitchen. Half way there you abruptly change courses and head straight for the Christmas tree. You’re surprised to find it’s still lit this late at night, but you chalk it up to more Christmas bullshit. Works for you, and that’s the important thing. By the twinkling lights of the very merry tree, you will pluck every last fucking strand of popcorn off for your dinner.

You try to carefully pluck off the strand closest to the bottom, taking your time to make sure you don’t disturb the other ornaments. When it gets snagged on the far side of the tree, you stop giving a damn in favor of ripping the thing off by brute force. The tree jerks with a too-loud jangling noise and releases your prize.

“I thought it was you,” a quiet voice says.

You jump at the sound regardless of its volume. It’s not fair. He’s supposed to be asleep. This isn’t supposed to be happening. You don’t want to see him.  The way you ever-so-carefully planned it, you were going to wait until all the preparations were complete. Then in the final moment before you stepped on the transportalizer, you’d tell John you were leaving. No fuss, no drama, just you finally getting the fuck out of this personal hell you’d crafted for yourself with every rotten decision.

“It’s OK,” John continues. “You can eat all of it if you want. I always thought it was kind of silly to put popcorn on a tree anyway. At least the candy canes look festive.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” you snap, still too much of a coward to face him.

“I miss you.”

His voice sounds closer. Too close.

“I mean, I miss seeing you around the house. I hate that things turned out like this. And it sucks even more because it’s Christmas.”

“How do your stupid human holidays even factor into this situation? No, wait, don’t tell me. I ruined Christmas by trying to warp your warm, fuzzy holiday celebrations to my own twisted, homosexual ends.”

“That’s not what I meant at all! Karkat, I don’t care that you like guys.”

“You just care if I like you.”

You finally turn to face him, feeling you have the upper hand well enough to keep your cool while you do this. You stare at him in his stupid plaid pajamas and practically beg him to deny it.

Which he can’t. Of course. His eyes drop the moment you catch them.

“Christmas is supposed to be a time where the whole family is together and happy,” he says. “I want you to be a part of this family, Karkat. That’s all I ever wanted. And it’s not Christmas if you’re not with me.”

“I’m not doing this anymore, John. I can’t.”

You’ve got to tell him. It’s now or never. Your traitorous blood pusher begs you to abscond, but you’re done listening to it.

“John, I’m leaving.”

“I know.”

“What? How? Did Gamzee—”

“No, it was Dave, who heard it from Rose, who heard it from Jade.”

“You incestuous little pack of rumormongers.”

“Don’t be mad at them, OK? They were just worried.”

“I should have known that my personal suffering would be used for everyone’s personal enjoyment. You know what? We should put up cameras. Then every shameful moment of my existence can be recorded for leisurely viewing. Someone can edit out all the boring bits and Strider can add some shitty music and you’d have a first-rate comedy on your hands that each and every one of you cancerous, bile spewing frenemies can loop over and over until you choke on your own laughter and die.”

“Karkat, nobody thinks this is funny! Everybody’s been really upset, which you wouldn’t know because you’ve been hiding in your room!”

“Oh, sure, this is all my fucking fault. That reminds me, I still haven’t apologized to you, have I?”

“Karkat—”

“Shut up and listen, fuckface.” You take a step closer towards him. You hope it makes him uncomfortable. “I am so fucking sorry that I ever fell for you. I’m sorry I ruined your stupid human holiday with my fucked up troll pity. Are you listening, Egbert? This is the moment you’ve been waiting for! This is me admitting exactly how wrong I was for ever thinking that you and I could actually have a relationship.”

“Karkat, just listen!”

“You want to know what I’m most sorry for, Egbert? I’m sorry about every single moment of this miserable year. I’m sorry I ever thought that living here was a good idea, and I can’t wait to finally be free of this place.”

“Please just listen to me for a second!” John finally shouts, grabbing hold of both of your arms as he does. “Karkat, I’m sorry too! And I want to make it up to you. Please don’t leave!”

You give John the most malicious look you have ever given another sentient creature.

“ _Get out of my way._ ”

Your yellow eyes and sharp teeth must still be worth something, because in that moment John genuinely looks scared of you. Your blood pusher aches at the sight, but it doesn’t do much to damper your satisfaction.

You push his arms out of the way, aiming to abscond while you’re victorious, but John stops you.

“No, you can’t leave yet! I have something to show you first!”

He practically throws himself at you, using his height to blind you with his scrawny chest. Your surprise and his weight has you stumbling back towards the tree. You cuss and fight, but he has you at a disadvantage and he doesn’t let up.

“Just wait a second! Let me just show you this one thing, and then you can do whatever you think is right! I promise!”

“Fine!” you finally scream. “Do whatever you think will sooth your callous blood pusher. I should have known better than to think that I could go a single week living in this house without being a constant target for misery, anyway.”

John looks hurt and you do your very best not to give a shit.

“Well? Are we just going to stand here all night or are you going to show me whatever it is that you’re so desperate for me to see?”

“It’s in my room. Come on.”

You let him lead the way upstairs. When you get to his bedroom door he slips it open and then turns around, waiting for you to enter.

“What is it?” you say, staying right outside his door just to be intentionally difficult.

“Just come a little closer.”

“You sure you want me to do that? I might infect you with my homosexual.”

“Please?”

He gives you one of those looks, one of those fucking pathetic looks that makes your blood pusher race. You hope it is the last one you ever see as you walk through the door to his room.

You’re just about to ask what the fuck he brought you up here for when you catch his eyes dart to the ceiling. You look up just in time to get a face full of leaves and twigs.

“Goddamn it!” you swear, throwing the stupid plant across the room. “That’s what this was about? You just wanted to prank me one last time before I left?”

“No, Karkat, it’s not a prank!”

“Fuck you! Fuck every last thing about you and about this house and about this whole fucking planet! I hate Earth! I hate Christmas! But most of all, I hate you, John Egbert! I can’t wait to leave this place!”

You abscond. You can’t stay there for another second, not unless you want Egbert to see the tears rolling down your face, which have absolutely nothing to do with him and everything to do with the way one of the stupid twigs caught you in the eye. You are not crying. You are just injured.

“Karkat, wait! Wait!” Egbert shouts, no doubt chasing you.

“Leave me alone!”

“It wasn’t a prank! It was mistletoe, Karkat! It wasn’t a prank!”

He catches you as you round the corner. His arms lock around you and pull you so tightly to his chest that you can hardly breathe.

“It wasn’t supposed to fall on your head, I swear! Oh my god. This isn’t going the way I planned it at all. I waited outside your door for hours, but you never came out, and then I asked Gamzee, but he wouldn’t help me. He just said something about how you were so upset and how maybe I should think about doing something about that, but I was such a chicken and I’m sorry. I was too scared to go in there in case you started yelling or something, so I just kept waiting for you to come out. And when you did I was supposed to apologize and it was supposed to be romantic and not full of swearing and yelling. And then we were supposed to kiss, and it wasn’t supposed to fall on your head, I swear! I just wanted to do something nice and make you stop crying because Gamzee said your were crying a whole lot and oh fuck, now you’re crying again. You’re right, I’m so terrible. I’m a terrible person, and I’m sorry, so please don’t leave.”

“John. John, breathe! And let me the fuck go!”

John’s crying. John is actually crying, and it is the most pathetic sight you have ever seen.

“Please don’t go, Karkat. I don’t want Vriska to live here. I want you to live here, and I want to do things like cuddle on the couch with you while we watch movies every day. I can’t do that if you leave, Karkat, so please, please, please don’t go. I even think I really do want to kiss you, so please.”

You did not think it was possible for your life to get any worse than it already was. You did not know that John Egbert could break your heart by saying the words you thought you wanted to hear.

“John, stop. Just stop, alright? You don’t have to do this. You can’t force yourself to like me any more than I can force myself to stop liking you. I know it’s going to suck when I leave, but you’ll get over it, I promise. This is the best thing for everybody, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. Fuck, please stop crying.”

“I’m not forcing myself! I mean, yeah, I guess I kind of am because this is all knew and kind of weird for me, but I think I really do like you. I talked to Dave, and he made me really think about some things.”

“Oh god. I really don’t want to know.”

“First he told me that I was oblivious and an idiot for only realizing you liked me after you told me, but he also said you’re an idiot for, um, falling in love with an idiot.” He blushes as he says the word ‘love.’ “But then he helped me realize, um… some stuff by asking me some questions, like how I would feel if Vriska had been the one with me under the mistletoe or if it had been Rose or Jade or Liv Tyler or even him.”

“John, please stop. You are embarrassing us both.”

“No, wait. I’m almost done. He asked me all kinds of questions like that, and Rose asked me some questions too. Rose’s questions kind of confused me, but Dave said that it sounded like I don’t… you know, have a problem with the fact that you’re a troll or a guy. It’s just that I don’t really ever think about stuff like that, understand? It doesn’t matter who it is, I just don’t really think about… you know, embarrassing stuff, like kissing and, um, other stuff.”

“Yes, John, I figured that out for myself, believe it or not.”

“No, you don’t get it! I like you, I honestly do. And I have for a long time, and I just didn’t realize it because I’d rather do things like hold hands and hug than kiss. I thought what I’ve been feeling all this time was just really strong friendship, but it’s not! It’s not just friendship! I’m OK with Dave and Jade and Rose and Vriska and everybody else living thousands of miles away, but if you left… If I couldn’t do things like watch movies while sitting beside you on the couch or put icing on your nose or see your face every day or hug you when I get really excited, I would die, Karkat. I would actually, seriously die without you around.”

“John…”

“I mean it, Karkat. I like you. I think I may even love you. So please, please don’t leave me.”

“John, I…”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t, because if you do and it turns out this isn’t real, you’re the one who’s going to die.

John hugs you and you fit against him like he’s the only place in the world you belong.

“God, I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted to do this. Even before we started fighting, I was always scared to really hug you because I didn’t know what it would mean and I knew that you’d just yell at me.”

You don’t know what to say, and you don’t really trust your voice at the moment. You hug him tight and hope that maybe it’s what he wants too.

“We can’t go back to fighting tomorrow, can we? Not after this. You can’t leave after all this, can you?”

“…No. I won’t leave.”

“Good,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. It’s actually kind of painful how tight he’s holding you, but you aren’t going to tell him to stop. “Good… But you want something more than just this, right?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“No way. We’ve been under the mistletoe twice. It’s about time we kissed, don’t you think?”

John lifts your head off his chest. You meet his big blue eyes and, fuck, but you hope he’s serious. You _need_ him to be serious.

You see him move and meet him halfway. All of the sudden, your one dream is coming true. You are actually kissing John Egbert. He is actually kissing you back. It is so wonderful you think you hear a chorus of troll angels clapping and cheering you on.

“Honk HONK! Woohoo, motherfuckers! This is a goddamn motherfuckin’ Christmas miracle, ain’t it Dad-dude? Ain’t this just the best fuckin’ Christmas miracle that ever did happen?”

You break off the kiss, but John doesn’t let you pull away. You get the feeling that you are going to have to start prying him off you just to get a little breathing room. You don’t mind a bit.

“Gamzee! What the fuck are you doing?”

“You guys!” John laughs, sounding much less horrified than you. “How long have you been watching?”

“Hey, palebro, this means we ain’t gonna be leavin’ no time soon, right? We ain’t gonna be leavin’ ever now, right? We’re gonna live here forever and always and be the best of motherfuckin’ miraculous miracles and have Christmas ever day, right?”

“Well, we can’t have Christmas every day, otherwise it wouldn’t be Christmas! But you guys could stay here forever…” He looks down at you. “…if you wanted to.”

“Oh, you’re never getting rid of us now. We are going to troll you for the rest of your life, John Egbert. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Merry Christmas, Karkat.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

“Merry Christmas, motherfuckers! And to all you motherfuckers a miraculous night!”


End file.
